East Anglia Bylines is republishing a recently-rediscovered collection of essays on Norfolk life, written in the 1980s, by kind permission of the late author’s family.
Pedestrianism.
I’m not talking about the sort that we all have to indulge in, between car park or bus stop and the shops, or the bits where we dodge the cyclists in the shopping precincts. I mean the feats of such as “George Wilson, the Pedestrian,” who, amid great public interest, undertook to walk 50 miles in 12 hours at the Prussia Gardens, Norwich, on the 10th of July 1816. He completed the course with a quarter of an hour to spare. He was one of the first of the breed of Pedestrians with a capital P, who undertook one-man sponsored walks either for wagers, or collection from spectators, or just because it was there.
He soon had a rival, one Robert Skipper, an ostler from the Barley Mow near Norwich, who beat Wilson’s record by 35 minutes, and went on to walk 50 miles a day for five consecutive days. Apparently, he never perspired during this marathon, although on the third day he lost his great toenail “which he pulled out by the roots in the presence of numerous spectators.” Next year Skipper wagered that he could do Thetford and back in 12 hours. He walked nearly all 55 miles of it, too, giving up only at the 54th when he calculated that he had to do a four-minute mile to win.
Walking into trouble
Pedestrianism then hit a bad patch. Skipper tried to walk 1000 miles in 20 days, but went lame on the ninth, and a newcomer, Thomas Jennings attempted a straight 1000 miles in 22 hours, but gave up after 20 hours because of faulty timekeeping. Skipper tried his 1000 miles again, but at mile 390 was stopped by magistrates because of traffic obstruction. However, at Lynn in 1822 he did manage to walk 50 miles in a few minutes under 11 hours.
Then the sport took a sudden turn. The public’s palate, jaded by earnest walkers plodding along roads or round pleasure gardens, demanded novelty. In September 1826, Mr Gibson undertook to walk from Norwich to Yarmouth in seven and a-half hours carrying £4 – in coppers! It weighed about half a hundredweight. He did it in seven hours. This was too much for the fair sex! After two warming-up sessions, Mary McMullen, aged 61, managed 100 miles in 24 consecutive hours. For six years, the male pedestrians sulked in their tents.
Pedestrianism goes wild
Then in 1836, John Baldwin struck a dizzying blow for male supremacy. He had 60 yards of cord wound on a pole one foot in circumference, took the end of the cord, and set off round until the whole lot was wound off, again. The distance was estimated at 20 miles, and the bogey was four hours. John, all in a spin, did it in three and a half hours. Plain walking was out! Included now were picking up things – eggs, stones, hazelnuts – in the mouth and dropping them in specified places, leaping hurdles, trundling hoops: walking backwards and throwing somersaults. One of the leading pedestrian gymnasts was John Mountjoy but tragedy was to strike at him.
During the summer of 1858, he was busily walking the roads of the county when the law stepped in. First, his seemingly never-ending commuting between Norwich and Dereham was banned because of the huge crowds on the road. Then, he was arrested and charged with leaving his wife and family chargeable to the funds of the St. Pancras Union – or Workhouse – and committed to the Guildhall. The same night, perhaps for grief or shame, he tried to commit suicide by strangling himself with his pocket handkerchief.
Pedestrianism had suffered a severe setback, and no doubt in an effort to salvage the sport the following challenge appeared in the “Norfolk Chronicle” on May 9th, 1863:
“Thomas Jessup, of East Harling, now in his 102nd year, is willing to walk against Father Time or any other man of the same age, a fair heel and toe match. The one doing the greatest distance in a day (or in a month) to be entitled to the stakes, which can be for any sum not exceeding £50 a side.”
No takers. Father Time and all the other 102-year-olds were chicken.
The women return
Once more, a lady came to the rescue. In 1874, at the Hop Pole Gardens, Norwich, one Madame Angelo walked 1000 miles in 1000 hours. It was announced she would walk the last mile with her baby in her arms but she was so weak and tired that her infant was handed to her when she had only four laps to walk.
In 1879, a brash American appeared on his way through Norwich during his walk of 2000 miles in 1000 hours. (This, however, hardly counted because in those days Americans had to walk distances like that to get to work or visit neighbours.) But it was the beginning of the end and this came when a 50-mile match took place at the Hop Pole Gardens for £20 a side.
William Clarke represented the local interest, but ominously his opponent was the Transatlantic George Parry, winner of O’Leary’s champion belt of the world at Chicago. Events soon took a nasty turn as Parry forged ahead and opened up a three-mile lead. However, not for the last time, England was saved by the weather. Heavy rainstorms flooded the track, both Pedestrians were forced to retire and the honour of the Old Country was rescued.
A quiet triumph
But wait! What is this? A newspaper report of August 25th, 1816? “A woman named Fox, 100 years old, walked from Norwich to Plumstead, a distance of nearly five miles. She commenced at eight in the morning, rested at a friend’s house for three hours, and walking home arrived at Norwich at seven o’clock in the evening.” No timekeepers. No wagers. No cheering crowds. Just a steady pace, a quiet determination – and a century of experience. A full month after George Wilson’s triumph at the Prussia Gardens, but without fanfare, old Mrs Fox calmly outdid him. She may not have been there first, but undoubtedly, she did do it better. Cherchez la femme!
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